Too Little Answers
by Kazima Kuwabara
Summary: someone is asking many questions but getting little answers. His main question is, do you love me? But who did he say this to? Yaoi


own nothing.

1st ygo fic...I am so tired now...

1234

Can you love many people? Have more then one true love? Can you be so in love with life, that you feel compelled to be in love with everything, and that's why you're in love with many? Does this make sense...I doubt it. I don't make sense I don't think I was meant to...I don't think I was meant to make sense.

I'm in a lot of pain right now, I don't remember what happened, but it was something bad. Something very bad. I don't remember my name right now either, but maybe that's how it is when you're getting close to the end. You forget your name...how you act, what you look like, who you were as person?

Am I person?

Well, If I'm not I'm one intelligent rock...

I wonder if I was ever this thoughtful, or these thoughts were only spurned because of something bad. What was it that has happened to me? Was I beaten? I do feel pain Tortured? I am experiencing long term pain. Raped? No I doubt, I think I'd feel dirty if I was raped. Shot? No...don't think that either...Stabbed? Maybe I was stabbed...I hurt in many random places on this body of mine. What...what is it that has made me ask all these questions?

Questions are rather useless. The last question I remember asking was..."Do you love me?" Who I said this to I'm not sure...but I didn't get an answer, I know that much. And then the bad thing happened...So questions are useless. You never get the answer you want, or just any answer. That's the real problem with life.

Too many questions.

I think I tried not to ask too many questions. Something in me says it wasn't my style. Something says I was happy. But was I really or was I faking it like the many masses of people that roam this world looking for a reason to exist do? I existed for some reason I'm sure of that, but memories in my head keep bothering me.

I had a sibling...I think. At least someone I thought of this person as a sibling. I was very fond of this person. But then there were others I was fond of too. The person I asked the question to, now he keeps popping in my head. Oh, the person I loved was he...then what am I? Am I a girl...actually I think not...amusing. More memories flood my senses, a card game...and two friends that are the same person, but aren't. Actually there are many friends I know like that, though I can't remember any of their names.

Whoever I asked the question too, I loved him a lot. Though I think it caused me daily pain to love him.

I wonder why. I don't remember what made my love so unattainable. Was it forbidden? Or am I ugly and not his type? Were we even friends at all? I don't know, and I don't remember. But do I want to?

So many questions, so few answers.

I'm very cold now, and lonely.

Lonely, such a hollow word when you think about it. There are certain words in the human language that fit their definition. 'Lonely,' for one does sound what it means all alone. lonely suites it definition, but there are some words that seem misplaced. Like Death I think. 'Death,' doesn't sound so bad or scary as it's definition makes it out to be. It sounds...well I don't know what it really sounds like. But when you think about it 'death,' is often misheard and mistaken for, 'deaf,' and I just can't find a words such as that with any fear in it.

My head is reeling with too many questions. I wish I had the answer to my question though...the one I asked before the bad thing...

I'm tired now...very tired.

The bad thing is almost over now, but then again was it really bad? It could have been a good thing, I'm not sure. I just don't remember anything now, and I don't need to. And those few answers I have are making a lot more sense then I ever thought they could...why does mankind have thoughts, and questions? Is there no way we can just be satisfied with the knowledge we do have, or is this how it's supposed to be? Man is always seeking answers for their questions, is that what makes mankind, man?

Ugh...with the questions again.

Whoever I was I'm starting to annoy my self. I think a lot...I wonder if I talked a lot...I wonder what I sound like?

Do you love me?

who did I say such words to...

And what was his answer going to be...I wish I knew.

But the bad thing has just ended, and I think I should rest now. That's all that is left the end, a long deserved rest after a day of too many questions and receiving too little answers.

1234

A man in blue talked with the young teen who sat on the park bench. Before them was a road that had been closed down, and had caution tape everywhere. Something lay under a ivory white sheet. The white reflected in the moonlight, but it also with the moonlight, showed the red that decorated the sheet having no design of fashion. A lovely scarlet color...that continues to stain the sheet.

"You're saying you two had an argument and this...Jounouchi Katsuya ran into the street, and that's when the car hit him?" An elder man in blue asked talking to the dark haired teen on the bench. "Yes...yes...How is he?" The teen asked unable to see what they had done with the blonde. The dark haired teen rose, "How is he!" The officer grabbed his arms steading him, "Mr. Kaiba..." The officer whispered taking Kaiba's shoulders, "He's gone. Passed on just a few minutes after he was hit." Seto Kaiba stared at the man and took a step back collapsing.

The officer tried to talk to him but the teen would not be moved. "The answer was yes," Was all Kaiba said for the rest of the night before he was escorted home. He would return to his bed and cry himself to sleep, the first of many tears to come. He'd answered too late, as most questions are.

Too late to change anything now.

end. 


End file.
